


Fortunate Son

by karrenia_rune



Category: Rookie of the Year (1993)
Genre: Character Study, Future Fic, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune





	Fortunate Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizmo/gifts).



Disclaimer: Rookie of the Year (1993) belongs to its respective producers and directors. It is not mine.  
The title comes from the John Fogerty by the same name. Written for Dizmo's request from Yuletide 2014.

"Fortunate Son" 

It was this time of the year when the weather seemed to straddle the borderline between the heat and long days of summer and the crispness of fall, that made him recall one of the best experiences of his youth. 

It had been a dream come true, so unlikely and improbable as to seem something that had happened to some other starry-eyed kid. But, it had happened, he even had the game-winning signed baseball to prove it. He kept it in a glass case on the fireplace mantel. That and his jersey. Of course, it had become a bit faded over the years from repeated washings, but that was okay. 

He, Henry Rowengartner had broken his arm and suddenly discovered an uncanny talent for pitching, an honest-to-goodness twelve-year-old phenomen and suddenly found himself shot directly into the Major Leagues alongside his hero Chet "Rocket" Steadman." of the Chicago Cubs. 

Of course, he heard all of his life that if one was from Chicago, and one hailed from the North Side one had to be a Cubs fan. And no fan of any ball club was as die-hard as a fan of the Cubbies. 

Was it only a year ago that the mayor of the city had made a wager that if the Cubs actually made it to the playoffs that he might just consider changing the name of the lake to the name of the winning ballclub manager? That didn't happen, of course, but it was a nice dream while it lasted. And still, never say never, right. Not the name change of the lake; he didn't really care about that; what he did care about was the world of baseball. The excitement, the roar, and energy of the crowd. And even when one could not make out to the stadium one could still watch it on TV. 

That, he thought, was what he loved most about baseball, and he'd tried to instill something of that wide-eyed wonder and nostalgia to his wife of two years, Madeline. She was the more practical of the two, tried to keep him grounded the way that his mother had once done for him when he was a kid; and Henry appreciated that. 

But still, there was room for practicality and also for, not frivolity, but the magic of baseball, the sheen and shimmer of America's past-time, the thing that had captured his heart and the imagination of boys and girls, (let's be fair here, Henry) he thought to himself since its humble beginnings.

He realized that he might be overstating his case just a little bit, but he could not help it. And while he knew and had read numerous articles in the era of rampant steroid use, which had given a bit of a tarnish the baseball's good name over the years; Henry still had a nostalgic love for the game.

As he went about his day, running errands and taking the car in to get washed, Henry found himself whistling the melody "Centerfield" by John Fogerty under his breath. It was a catchy tune and one of his favorites. In fact, it could almost have been the soundtrack of his own boyhood fame. 

Now, as an older married man, with a six month-year-old baby boy, Henry figured that dreams don't die, and any dream worth having was worth working to make a reality. Little Ernie Rowngartner, when he was old enough, would play catch with his dad, and one day would become a baseball player himself. The possibilities were endless.

Until then, he might consider applying for a job working in the major leagues, as an announcer, or an umpire, or even, possibly a manager. He decided that he'd talk it over with Madaline at dinner that evening; after all, it was a big world out there and he had always believed that one made one's own luck.


End file.
